


her answer

by magumarashi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cheek Kisses, F/M, POV Multiple, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), feelings returned in kind, wordless confessions of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: After his dinner with the Warrior of Light is rudely interrupted, Aymeric de Borel stands in the parlor of Fortemps Manor trying not to be too mad about it.--Her friend's twin is gravely injured, and the Ixal are gearing up to summon a Primal--again. This wasn't exactly the evening Aoife Asturmaux had envisioned having.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea for this fic in my head for a while and i finally got around to writing it ehehe... i couldn't decide if I wanted it to be from Aymeric's pov or the wol's, so I ended up writing both versions of it... and then liking both, so I'm just going to give you both!
> 
> For context, my WoL is a Viera named Aoife Asturmaux. (Her first name is pronounced "Eefa".) I put her backstory on [the Lodestone](https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/character/27819823/) so I won't repeat it here, but the only detail I feel is relevant for this is that she grew up in Coerthas with her adoptive parents, hence the Elezen last name.
> 
> since I take particular pleasure in being a self-referential nightmare, this fic does make reference to [one of my haurchefant/wol fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561787); but honestly it's not required reading and this one stands on its own (probably). The context just adds a little extra *chef kiss motion* flavour.

It was after the dust had settled somewhat, and the poisoned Leveilleur twin had been escorted to the infirmary by the fastest legs that could carry her. Alphinaud lingered only long enough to ensure that Count Edmont’s men had the situation well in hand, and before long he left to prepare for the mission into Ixal territory. The sitting room at Fortemps manor was soon just as quiet as if nothing had happened. 

Aymeric stood with his arms folded, trying not to feel too sour about his interrupted evening—but it was hard not to, when he’d been looking forward to it for so long: an evening alone with the Warrior of Light, listening to the tales of her adventures over food and wine. It was a chance to spend time with the woman he admired most, and no small part of him had hoped to confess how he felt about her if the opportunity arose. At the very least, he hoped his hospitality would communicate his feelings somewhat. He’d spared no expense to have a meal prepared that would impress; even contributed a few of the dishes himself. And now… 

Well, he reminded himself, things happen. He would have to find some way to make it up to her.

Aymeric glanced over at her, still dressed in the sharp suit she’d worn for the occasion. He’d always known her to be a fashionable woman, but the suit had caught him rightly off guard. A perfectly tailored suit wasn’t the sort of outfit that adventurers just carried with them for emergencies. Could it be that she too had been looking to impress, and procured a suit just for their evening? Thinking this, he almost felt all the worse that their dinner had been cut short—but there was naught that could be done for it now.

Aoife had a hand to her chin pensively, gazing at the hearthside couch where her injured friend had lain some time earlier. Her expression was difficult to read, and Aymeric couldn't help wondering what was on her mind. She’d let her friends leave without her, after all… 

“Aoife?” he asked. Her ears twitched; signalling that he’d pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked over at him. “Are you alright? If you’re worried about your friends, there’s no need to wait up for me. Go to them.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Aoife admitted, shaking her head. “It’s just… I never did answer your personal question, did I?”

“My… oh, that’s right.” Aymeric recalled what he’d said to her, mere moments before their evening was so rudely interrupted:  _ “Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion, I mean, but… what do you want for yourself?” _

“There’s no need to answer right away,” Aymeric continued. To be honest, he was surprised she was still thinking about that with everything else going on. “I understand now isn’t a good time. You can always tell me later.”

“But…” The corners of her mouth came up in a smile. “What if I told you I have the answer right here?”

“Hm? What do you mean—!”

Aoife strode over to him and grasped the lapels of his overcoat, pulling him close enough to lay a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was over before Aymeric could fully react to it, and Aoife was already halfway across the room by the time he realized what had happened. Not that he could have come up with a coherent response—what was he supposed to say, when the woman he loved returned his feelings so plainly?

There came a sudden bang followed by a soft “ow,” which snapped Aymeric from his trance—evidently Aoife had knocked her elbow on the doorframe in her haste to leave the room. The young lord couldn’t help smiling.

“Aoife, wait!”

At the sound of his voice, the Viera stopped in her tracks and glanced back over her shoulder. Her face was red as a beet, and she smiled back at him awkwardly. It was a while before either of them could think of anything to say; Aoife clearly embarrassed that she’d made such a bold move and then bungled her exit, and Aymeric trying to find the words to express how he felt. More than anything he wanted to take her back to his estate and continue where they’d left off, but he knew she had other things to attend to… 

“Er—dinner!” Aymeric blurted, then managed to clarify: “It was lovely. Let’s do dinner again sometime—perhaps with fewer interruptions?”

Aoife’s face lit up, and she responded with a warm nod before showing herself out (less painfully this time). Aymeric kept his eyes on the door until her footsteps faded, and the  _ clack  _ of the front door signalled that she’d left the manor.

“Ahem.”

Aymeric nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Count Edmont clearing his throat—he had completely forgotten the older man was still in the room. Aymeric whirled around to face him, expecting some kind of admonishment for conducting such a personal exchange in someone else’s parlor. Count Edmont, however, merely flashed him a thumbs up.

“Ah, to be young and in love,” the count said, smiling knowingly. “Lest you worry, I shan’t tell a soul what transpired here.”

“Thank you…” Aymeric murmured. He was suddenly glad for the absence of the Fortemps sons—if someone like Emmanellain were to get wind of their exchange, rumors would ricochet to the furthest corners of Ishgard overnight. 

“Now, go on,” said Count Edmont, motioning to the door with his cane. “If the Ixal are preparing to summon a Primal, it would be in Ishgard’s best interests to be prepared in turn, would it not? In case the worst should come to pass…”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Aymeric. The Leveilleur girl’s warning had slipped his mind entirely.

“House Fortemps is ready to lend its support as always,” said Count Edmont. “I will send word to Camp Dragonhead that the Scions are on their way.”

“Much appreciated, thank you. On that note, I’ll be off—there’s much and more to be done.” 

Aymeric nodded to the count gratefully before taking his leave. He’d need to first return to the estate to swap his evening clothes out for the Lord Commander’s robes and armor. Then he would head to the Congregation, where he would brief Lucia on the current situation and have her inform the knights of the new threat. And so on… it was looking to be another long and fretful night; quite the opposite of the night he’d planned for.

Yet even with a dire situation at hand, he couldn’t help walking with a bit of a spring in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one asked but [i did in fact wear a suit glam to my date with aymeric](https://maguneedsalife.tumblr.com/post/619969630620008448)


	2. Chapter 2

Aoife tried her best not to let the irritation show on her face.

She felt bad for feeling irritated at a time like this—there were more important things going on. Her close friend’s sister had been poisoned, for crying out loud; not to mention the Ixal preparing to summon Garuda just outside of Ishgard’s walls. But, still, she couldn’t help feeling miffed.

Aoife had been looking forward to her date with Aymeric (at his _estate,_ no less!); a moment of quiet after everything that had happened, shared with someone dear to her. She hadn’t had a chance to relax in a long while, and for his part Aymeric seemed to have gone the full nine yalms to make her feel welcome. Just being with him made her feel at ease, and for once, the words came easily to her. She’d had so much more to tell him about her adventures, the people she’d met… 

_“What do you want for yourself?”_

Aymeric’s question was the first time anyone had ever asked her what she wanted for herself—not as a hero of the realm, or even really an adventurer. What did she, personally, want? She hadn’t given it much thought until he asked. Her eyes wandered over to the hearthside couches where Alisaie had lain not too long ago, and she found herself remembering the last time she sat there herself. It was a memory that felt both years distant and as clear as yesterday: the night she’d shared an intimate evening with Haurchefant… Even now, the glow of the hearth and the familiar scent of wood smoke made her wish things hadn’t turned out as they did. 

_No,_ she thought to herself, _the past can’t be changed. The dead won’t come back to us—Primals are proof that simply wishing won’t make it so. What matters now is…_

“Aoife?”

Her ears twitched at the sound of Aymeric’s voice. She glanced over at him, and the look of concern in his eyes made her heart pinch a little. 

_What matters now is… the future I build with the people who are still here._

“Are you alright?” Aymeric went on. “If you’re worried about your friends, there’s no need to wait up for me. Go to them.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Aoife admitted, shaking her head. She couldn’t tell him she was recalling the time she’d spent hours kissing Haurchefant on these very couches, so she scrambled to think of something else to say. “It’s just… I never did answer your personal question, did I?”

“My… oh, that’s right. There’s no need to answer right away,” Aymeric reassured her. “I understand now isn’t a good time. You can always tell me later.”

“But…” _What if I want to tell you? What if, what I want for myself is…_ “What if I told you I have the answer right here?”

“Hm? What do you mean—!”

Aoife strode over to him and grasped the lapels of his overcoat, pulling him close enough to lay a gentle kiss on his cheek. He jumped a little at her touch, which was reasonable—she had, after all, taken him completely by surprise. His skin was warm against her lips, and his clothes smelled faintly of flowers; for a moment she wanted nothing more but to linger there. Before too long, however, the realization set in.

_Oh. Oh gods what am I doing. Alphinaud’s waiting and there’s about to be a Primal on the loose; I have to go—!_

Aoife released him just as quickly as she’d grabbed him and hastily made her way toward the door. She almost managed a clean escape, but she took the turn too quickly around the corner and knocked her elbow on the doorframe.

“Ow.”

“Aoife, wait—!”

At the sound of Aymeric's voice, Aoife stopped in her tracks and glanced back over her shoulder. She smiled back at him awkwardly, cheeks burning in embarrassment. It was a while before either of them could think of anything to say; Aymeric seemed so shocked that words were beyond him, while Aoife couldn’t believe she’d made such a fool of herself trying to play it smooth. She almost couldn’t look at him—not when he was looking back at her with such adoration in his eyes…! 

“Er—dinner!” Aymeric blurted, then managed to clarify: “It was lovely. Let’s do dinner again sometime—perhaps with fewer interruptions?”

Aoife couldn’t help smiling at such an earnest invitation: clear evidence of feelings returned in kind. She responded with a warm nod before showing herself out (less painfully this time, with better awareness of the shape of the door). A giddy grin lingered on her lips even as she left Fortemps Manor and went to meet Alphinaud by the city gates. At that moment, she felt as though she could take on ten Garudas and emerge victorious—nay, a hundred.

Much as she wanted to daydream about the kisses she could surprise him with on her victorious return, she knew she had to focus on the task at hand. She would have to put the Primal down all the quicker, lest she keep her Aymeric waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was a challenge writing this while having to keep all the dialog the same lmao
> 
> i know the game's writers have come out and said they wrote the npcs specifically so that the player could imagine a romance w/them and the wol but i still felt so seen when aoife paused to consider when aymeric asked her out for a drink. in my head she was still struggling with losing haurchefant and wasn't sure if she was ready to move on quite yet. at the same time, part of her felt willing to give aymeric a chance, because she does care for him a good deal, and she longed to rekindle that kind of connection with someone. i wanted to capture some of that in this fic
> 
> What did Aymeric's stunned gaze of adoration look like? probably [something like this](https://twitter.com/JewishAnime/status/1284569410376626177)


End file.
